


Paragon

by BG97



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Allusions to Past Self Harm, Allusions to Suicidal Ideation, Alternate Universe, Corpse Desecration, Disjointed narrative, Dolls, Horror, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Major Depressive Disorder, Major character death - Freeform, Minor Character Death, Murder, Psychological Horror, Rating May Change, Undisclosed Mental Illness, Unreliable Narrator, Warnings May Change, dead bodies, mannequins, multiple POVs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:54:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27220780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BG97/pseuds/BG97
Summary: Hyunjin's life is falling apart. Felix is trying to hold the pieces together. And Chan...Chan just thinks Hyunjin is the paragon of everything he's been looking for.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Hwang Hyunjin, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Felix
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54
Collections: Stray Kids SpookFest





	Paragon

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE MIND ALL TAGS BEFORE READING
> 
> But otherwise, hello!
> 
> Quick disclaimers:
> 
> Tags, warnings, and the rating are subject to change with future chapters!
> 
> In this fic, Hyunjin and Jisung are fashion designers and Felix is a model... I did research, I promise, but I took some liberties with the realism of their professions... just fair warning for any experts out there!
> 
> Otherwise! I hope you enjoy!

Hyunjin isn’t sure how long he’s been out of it.

How long he’s been staring at the messy sketch in front of him with unfocused eyes, until each of his shaky, uncertain pen strokes bleed together into a fuzzy mass on his paper… just one dark grey smudge.

When he’s drawn back into reality… the sketch in front of him doesn’t make any more sense in focus than it did as a blur. 

There’s a dark stain in the middle of a poorly constructed torso where the tip of his pen had sat, bleeding ink onto the page while he zoned out. 

It takes him several seconds to even realize it’s not supposed to be there. 

His phone’s ringing, and even before he looks over to check the caller ID, he knows he’s not going to answer. 

He’s going to lose his job.

Hyunjin doesn’t know when this… dry spell… began. He just knows that he hasn’t come up with anything he’s anywhere near confident enough to submit yet… and his deadline is next week.

It’s like some cruel, cosmic joke after his last season went so well.

His phone buzzes at him a final time as Jihyo leaves what he’s sure is an absolutely livid voicemail… he considers listening to it - if only so he can maybe… feel something? 

He doesn’t, and he’s not even sure who he’s called instead until the line picks up.

Hyunjin’s been out of it for a long time, but if there’s anyone in the world that can make him feel something...

“Hey, you! I was getting worried!”

... it’s Felix.

〤〤〤

Felix has no idea what to expect when he knocks on Hyunjin’s door, yet he’s not surprised by what he finds.

Hyunjin looks like shit.

His long hair is greasy and tangled, eyes tired and lined with bruises from exhaustion. He’s wearing a hoodie Felix recognizes from high school; it’s way too tight in the chest and shoulders, and there’s a mysterious orange stain on the front that he can’t begin to guess the origins of.

Hyunjin won’t meet his gaze as he steps back to let him into the cluttered apartment, but Felix smiles at him and pulls him into a tight hug anyway, arms slotting into place around Hyunjin’s ribs like they’ve done so many times before. The older boy only hesitates for a second before draping his own around Felix’s shoulders, weight slumping into him as he ducks down to press his face into Felix’s soft cardigan.

Hyunjin’s dirty hair is pressing against Felix’s cheek, but the younger boy doesn’t care, happy to hold his weight and just feel his warmth for a moment after the scare he’d gotten during their phone call.

He’ll never be okay with seeing Hyunjin like this, but he’s also seen worse.

He keeps a casual smile on his face as he pulls slowly away and steps inside. The apartment smells like stale sweat and old takeout, like Hyunjin hasn’t cleaned or left in weeks, and the mess he finds just confirms that theory.

“So, how have you been holding up?” Felix knows the answer to the question - it’s obvious. He still keeps his expression and tone pleasant as he crosses the room and starts opening the windows. It’s beginning to get cold out, an autumn breeze finally starting to disrupt the heat and sunshine of the past few months, but the chilly air that floods into Hyunjin’s living area-turned-workshop feels nice. 

Hyunjin needs fresh air, a clean space, light… Felix pulls open the blinds and late afternoon sunshine floods into the room, illuminating scattered, half-empty food containers and small mountains of discarded papers, fabric scraps. There’s dirty laundry and blankets haphazardly strewn across the floor like Hyunjin hadn’t even been able to make it to his bedroom door in a few days… a few weeks maybe…

The mess looks better in the light.

Something seen and known and  _ manageable _ .

“I didn’t ask you over to make you clean,” Hyunjin mutters, even as he sinks onto his couch, seemingly oblivious to the drawings and fabric samples laid out in some remotely orderly manner there that he’s now disrupting with his body weight.

“You wanted inspiration,” Felix hums, watching him with a soft smile that he hopes isn’t betraying the pain seeping into his heart, “go shower and change, right now, and I’ll try to make this a space you can work in again.”

Hyunjin finally lifts his eyes… and it’s Felix who has to look away.

He busies himself with hunting down trash bags while Hyunjin quietly leaves the room.

Felix doesn’t let himself cry until he hears the shower turn on, but suddenly there’s an inconvenient drop of water on the sketch he’s holding. He’d been trying to figure out if the crumpled paper meant it was hated or loved, but now the dark ink is bleeding into something unrecognizable as his tears hit the page.

He sets the design back down on the couch with shaking hands and slowly sinks to the floor, letting his vision blur.

Felix is suddenly sixteen again, and Hyunjin is holding his face in his hands and telling Felix that he’s the only reason he has to live anymore.

He lets his mind live in that moment for several prolonged seconds, tears streaming down his cheeks as the pain and anxiety and fear and guilt all flood back to him. Emotions building up until they consume him, heart beating so hard and fast in his chest he thinks his body might be rocking with it, like he might just combust at any second.

“One… Two… Three… Four,” he whispers into the quiet living room, so low and soft he almost can’t hear the count himself.

He gets up to thirty before his breathing starts to slow, fifty before he thinks his heart might gradually be calming.

Felix clenches his eyes closed and then begins tensing his muscles, starting with his calves and moving up, manicured fingernails digging into his sweaty palms as he slowly releases the adrenaline building up in his system and can slow the shakiness racking his body.

He’s not that scared, insecure little boy anymore and neither is Hyunjin.

They’re past that, and Felix can’t keep letting it control him, no matter how hard he still has to work to fight it.

He loves Hyunjin - more than he should, sometimes - and he knows that it will always hurt and be messy and that he’ll always have these self-centered anxieties that he’s the reason Hyunjin keeps slipping like this…

But they’re adults now.

And they’re friends, and they’ve  _ been _ friends, and Felix will always be there for Hyunjin…

Just not in the way he knows a part of Hyunjin will always want him to be.

“Seventy-seven… Seventy-eight…”

But this can’t be his fault. It can’t be, and he knows that - his therapist has repeated the same words to him over and over again for the past four years.

Hyunjin is an individual with his own demons to deal with, and none of that is Felix’s fault.

He is doing what he can to be a good friend.

“Ninety-two… Ninety-three… Ninety-four…”

It’s not Felix’s fault.

It’s not his fault.

It’s  _ not _ .

“One hundred.”

Felix muffles a groan into his knees before soaking up the tears with his sleeve and forcing himself to get up.

The last thing either of them needs is for Felix to break down right now.

〤〤〤

Hyunjin flips his damp hair out of his face, huffing in annoyance as it falls right back down anyway.

“Your hair’s gotten long,” Felix hums in his deep voice, still holding carefully still as Hyunjin moves around him, not seeming bothered by how close they are, “are you growing it out?”

Hyunjin bites his lip, keeping his head down as he pulls the tape measure taught around the younger boy’s waist. “I guess.”

“I like it… it suits you.”

Hyunjin just hums noncommittally, reaching around Felix’s body to make a note of his measurement. He’s not even sure  _ why _ he thought this would be helpful, but imagining his clothes on pretty people is kind of his thing and…

Felix is…

“Does your boyfriend know you’re here?”

He can feel it, the moment Felix tenses up. 

Jisung has always been a sore spot between them.

“Jinnie-”

“It’s just a question.”

He risks a glance up to Felix’s face just to catch his stricken expression as a punishment... or something.

It works; the little crease between the other boy’s eyebrows, the tense line of his lips, his bloodshot eyes that Hyunjin had pretended not to notice after his shower… guilt makes his stomach roll almost immediately.

_ “Hey, Jinnie?” _

_ “Yeah?” Hyunjin laughs, turning from the dumb movie Felix had insisted on watching a few glasses of wine ago. The room is warm and Felix’s couch is so soft and comfortable and he just feels so good as he looks at Felix’s pretty face. _

_ “I have… we have to talk… promise you won’t get…” Oh, wait… Felix isn’t smiling… He lets his words trail off and hang in the air between them while Hyunjin tries to catch up with the mood shift. _

_ “... I promise…” Hyunjin has no idea what he’s promising but Felix looks… sad… and Hyunjin never wants Felix to look sad. _

_ Felix looks away, picking at the skin around his fingernails; they’re already bloody and bruised, and he’s not sure why he hadn’t noticed that before. Hyunjin doesn’t feel sober enough to handle this. _

_ “Okay… I… uhm… I - I met someone.” _

_ “You…” Hyunjin’s absolutely not sober enough for this. “You met someone.” _

_ Felix’s face twists up, and Hyunjin belatedly realizes he’s about to cry just as a single tear draws a line through the galaxy of freckles on his flushed cheeks. _

_ Hyunjin doesn’t know how to identify the emotion that’s building in his chest at this moment. He just knows it’s ugly and not something he can let Felix see. _

_ That was his promise, right? _

_ “I’m sorry,” Felix sobs, and Hyunjin has to wrap his arms around his own body to stop himself from going to comfort him. He’s not sober enough for this. _

_ “Why are you sorry?” Felix and him are both the type of people who cry easily, but Hyunjin just feels static, and nothing about Felix’s painful sobs is easy.  _

_ It’s his ‘the world is ending’ cry. _

_ Few people can make Felix cry like that. _

_ And Hyunjin knows it’s not this new person. _

_ “Please don’t hate me.” _

_ “I could never hate you.” The words leave Hyunjin’s lips easily even if they hurt. _

_ Even if they just make Felix cry harder, mashing his little, raw hands over his face like that will stop the tears from falling or stop the choking, gasping sobs from ripping out of his chest. _

_ “I love you.” Also the wrong words to say, but he says them anyway and watches Felix’s shaking body curl in under their weight. _

_ He never wants Felix to be sad. _

_ He just wants what’s best for him, whatever will make him happy. _

_ He’s a fucking liar. _

  
  


“He knows I’m here. He’s not insecure like that.”

Hyunjin just hums, picking up a fabric scrap at random to hold up against Felix’s soft, tanned skin; he almost immediately discards it for another that compliments the other boy’s complexion better. He can feel Felix’s eyes on his face, but he doesn’t meet his gaze.

“That color is more spring than winter,” the younger boy finally offers to break the silence. Hyunjin purses his lips as he realizes that’s why it still didn’t look quite right to him, the soft pink bringing out Felix’s summer glow, but entirely out of place with the shaky color scheme he’d barely scraped together the past few weeks.

“Would you recommend a dustier pink or something more jewel toned?” He stares at the messy color-coded piles Felix had made for him while he showered, a dusty peach georgette sample catching his eye.

“It depends.” Felix shrugs. “Your team would probably like more jewel colors, but muted tones are more wearable.” Yeah, Hyunjin knows that, and more than anything, he just needs to impress Jihyo.

His fingertips graze over delicate georgette, anyway. 

Hyunjin holds the sheer fabric up to the patch of skin laid bare above Felix’s collarbone. He’s seen the other boy bathed in the most elegant and stunning designs before, but this Felix will always feel the most familiar, the most like home. The one who wears sweatpants and chunky cardigans and t-shirts that are three sizes too big for him, oversized necklines slipping off freckled shoulders, too much soft fabric hanging off his compact frame.

He gets a vague picture in his head of semi-sheer dusty peach draping over him, something light and flowing, androgynous. He imagines styling it under a soft grey trench, something warm because Felix always gets cold so easily. He can see the younger boy lounging on an outdoor terrace of some pretentious cafe, sipping overly-sweetened coffee... or maybe strolling through the long, labyrinthine halls of his favorite art museum, trench hanging off his arm, smiling fondly at his favorite paintings as if they’re old friends. He thinks of elegant georgette fluttering and flowing with each echoing step, the way his soft skin would glow against the muted color as he turns, beaming when he sees…

Jisung.

“Hold this here,” he whispers, forcing his face to remain neutral as Felix’s fingers brush his, reaching up to take his place, pinning the little fabric sample against his skin.

He sketches a few different vague ideas out in silence, more focused on capturing the motion of the piece he’d envisioned than specific design aspects. Nothing about it feels  _ new _ , but it feels workable, a start. 

Finally something.

Felix sits quietly while Hyunjin continues to work, obediently holding samples and weighing in with gentle, non-threatening opinions whenever he’s asked, almost like he knows the questions are really rhetorical and just to give Hyunjin more time to think.

He erases and redraws the creases in a semi-fitted charcoal grey turtleneck he’d gotten caught up on, the image in his head so clear, just how the giving material would cling to Felix’s toned arms in a way he’d hate, but would flatter his body so well. It’s just not translating right on his sketch, and he already knows he’ll never be satisfied with the flats he’ll make up on his computer later for Jihyo.

When Hyunjin finally looks up from his page, he catches Felix’s eyelids drooping. He hadn’t even realized it’d gotten dark outside, but now Felix is only illuminated in the soft light of his desk lamp, the little sample slowly slipping from his slack fingers as he starts to doze.

A strange feeling builds in Hyunjin’s chest as he watches him. It’s been a while since they’ve spent any time together alone, and…

Hyunjin’s just so thankful that Felix came over.

“Hey,” Hyunjin whispers, hand reaching out to brush Felix’s shoulder. The younger boy startles for a second, eyes blinking arrythmically like he’s trying to convince them to stay open.

“Hey… sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s okay.” Hyunjin smiles, tugging the fabric sample from Felix’s grip so he can tuck it away with his sketch. “It’s late… sorry for keeping you.”

“No! No, it’s okay!” Felix rushes out, a grin pulling at the corners of his lips. He’d been using his soft cardigan as a blanket over his legs, but he pulls it up to his chest now.

“Thank you for playing mannequin for me,” Hyunjin jokes, stacking his work - way more than he expected - and setting it aside for later. Felix’s responding laugh is soft and still a little sleepy. He tucks the cardigan up around his shoulders so it drapes across his arms and chest rather than just pulling it on… it’s cute.

“Always happy to help,” he giggles, “glorified mannequin is basically my job description anyway.”

“Hey, now -”

“I’m not wrong!”

Hyunjin just snorts, dragging a hand through his too long hair. His roots are growing out, and it’s starting to get in his way, but he still thinks he kind of likes it… Felix’s compliment from earlier definitely helped, too.

“You know,” the younger man starts, reclining back against Hyunjin’s couch and letting out a deep breath. He glances at Hyunjin’s face in a way that tells him exactly what - or more accurately,  _ who _ \- he’s going to bring up before the next words even leave his mouth. “Jisung was having similar problems.”

Hyunjin sucks his lips in between his teeth, looking down at his hands for a distraction. “Oh, yeah?”

He glances back up at Felix to catch him picking at the skin around his thumbnail, a nervous tic he picked up after… at some point.

He reaches over and grabs onto his hand to stop him, and the younger man flushes as he realizes what he was doing. “Uhm, yeah, he uh…” Felix pauses, closing his eyes and taking a slow breath. Hyunjin feels the familiar ache of guilt settling in his gut. He doesn’t like knowing that he makes Felix uncomfortable, obviously, he just… he can’t really help himself when it comes to Jisung. 

“What happened?” He offers. Hyunjin still hasn’t let go of his hand, but Felix isn’t shaking him off or anything so he lets himself be greedy, tracing light circles with his thumb on the other man’s smooth skin while he waits.

Felix takes another steadying breath, giving Hyunjin a soft smile that feels only slightly forced. “Nothing really happened, but he just… he kept saying he ‘lost his muse’.” Hyunjin snorts, and it makes Felix laugh, too, even though he’s probably not thinking the same thing: Jisung designs glorified streetwear, there’s nothing he needs a ‘muse’ for. “Yeah, so, he was struggling, but some friend of his knows this guy that makes these, uh… these  _ mannequins _ .”

Hyunjin’s eyebrows furrow at the weird use of emphasis. “Mannequins?”

Felix’s gaze flicks down to their hands, lower lip caught between his teeth, but he doesn’t pull away. “Yeah, uh… they’re mannequins but like… not like…”

Hyunjin waits for him to go on, but Felix is doing that thing with his face that he does when he doesn’t know how to put his thoughts into words. “Okay… what are they like?”

“Well… like they’re  _ mannequins, _ but they look like  _ people _ , you know?”

“... Not really.”

Felix’s face twists up again. “I wish I had a picture of Minho, maybe Jisung can send me one…”

Wait… “Minho?”

“Oh,” Felix laughs, but he still looks uncomfortable in a way that’s starting to make Hyunjin feel uneasy, too, “yeah, Minho. This guy, he, like… names each of the mannequins he makes, and Jisung actually calls it that so, like… yeah, I guess it just caught on… I mean, I can’t stress this enough, Jinnie, it, like… it looks  _ real _ , it, like,  _ actually  _ looks like a person.”

“That just sounds creepy.”

Felix laughs a little too loudly, “well, yeah, it kind of is, to be honest, but Jisung seriously, like, swears by it.”

Hyunjin grimaces, trying to picture a mannequin that’s actually life-like in any way. “Why would that help him? That’s so weird.”

Felix winces. “Yeah, it’s a little… uncomfy, I guess… but that’s what we were just doing right? And maybe if you had one… you know, not that I don’t like modelling for you, but maybe it could help to have something around all the time, you know?”

Hyunjin frowns, and he tries to see something good about the suggestion - he really does, if just for Felix’s sake - but he can’t get past how  _ weird _ the idea sounds.

“I don’t think… working with you works because it’s  _ you _ , Lix. I don’t think a mannequin can fix this.”

Felix looks back down at their hands, and Hyunjin can tell he’s realized that he really needs to let go, but doesn’t want to do it first… so Hyunjin forces himself to do it for him. His hand feels too cold as it settles back into his lap.

“Maybe you could just come meet - wait, no, not meet, that’s super creepy - maybe you could just come see Minho? You haven’t been over to my place in forever, anyway.”

Yeah, because Felix’s place is also Jisung’s place, now.

Hyunjin wonders if the tense smile on his face looks as uncomfortable as it feels. “Sure, Lix, I’ll think about it.”

  
  


〤〤〤

  
  


Hyunjin does think about it.

Just not in the way Felix wanted him to.

It’s not so much careful consideration as just… sometimes Hyunjin will be in the kitchen trying to relearn how to cook for himself and all of a sudden he’ll remember that  _ Jisung _ , Felix’s  _ boyfriend _ , owns some kind of creepy, hyper realistic mannequin and that  _ Felix _ , his  _ best friend _ , wants him to buy one, too.

It’s a surreal sort of thing that Hyunjin can’t really wrap his head around…

Until he does… in the only way he knows how.

Felix is trying to get rid of him.

_ “... not that I don’t like modelling for you…” _

Maybe ‘get rid of him’ is harsh, but it’s not like it’s the first time that Felix has tried to… step back.

Which also isn’t fair.

For the nth time, Hyunjin wishes he was normal, they were normal.

Hyunjin’s an adult, a  _ successful _ adult with an amazing lifestyle and a career that he loves that he is more than aware most people his age would kill for. He has no reason to feel insecure, but the funny thing about being an insecure person is that nothing actually matters.

Having a nice apartment and more money in his bank account than he could have ever imagined just a few short years ago doesn’t make a shred of difference.

It just means that when Hyunjin can’t handle his own thoughts anymore, he’s drowning them in Patron rather than Velicoff.

Because the truly awful thing about knowing that you’re insecure? Not only does your mind convince you that you can’t trust anyone else, but now you also have to deal with not even trusting yourself.

Does Felix hate him? Rationally, he’s never done anything that should make Hyunjin think that, but he sure is thinking it anyway.

And it’s not like he shouldn’t.

Not after what Hyunjin’s done to him, continues to do to him, will more than likely keep doing to him for a long time if Felix lets him.

Which is an entirely different thing because no matter how much he wants to get better and he wants to move on and just… be a person…

He can’t handle the thought of losing Felix. 

No matter how much he knows he’s hurt him, no matter how strained their relationship gets.

His therapist calls it codependency, and Hyunjin thinks that’s too kind of a term for something so awful for both of them.

But even in the middle of all of this he doesn’t really believe that Felix would leave him, no matter how shitty the reason is, but it just… it  _ feels _ real because he wouldn’t be sobbing on his couch at three in the morning with too much alcohol churning in his too empty stomach if it didn’t feel real.

There’s nothing worse than trying to convince yourself that something that feels real can’t be true.

There’s nothing worse than feeling insane.

Than feeling like a monster either way.

So, Hyunjin drinks until the room won’t stop moving. And then he drinks some more until he feels like he’ll somehow both melt through the coach and float right off it. And then he drinks some more until the puddles of spilled tequila on his glass coffee table start to look infinite, like just one wrong move will have him drowning in a bitter lake of alcohol. And then he drinks some more until he has to crawl to the bathroom to not get sick all over his nice carpeting.

And then he slinks back to the couch and his half empty bottle with a shirt covered in his own mess because he’s pretty sure throwing up means he has to drink even more.

And only then is there peace.

  
  


〤〤〤

  
  


Felix shivers, clutching his camel hair trench tight against his body. He can’t feel his feet in the beat up Vans he hadn’t even tied before leaving the apartment, and his flannel pajamas are doing very little to protect him from the bitter wind.

If it weren’t for Jisung, he wouldn’t have even grabbed his coat.

“Try the buzzer again.”

Jisung glances at him, beanie pulled down to his eyebrows and coat zipped up past his mouth and nose so only his eyes are peaking through the winter wear he’d actually been smart enough to grab before Felix bolted. “Baby, he’s probably passed out.”

Felix’s jaw clenches; he smashes his numb finger into the little button himself.

“Let’s just go back to the car, okay? It’s freezing.”

“What if he’s not just passed out?” Jisung’s hand lands on his shoulder, trying to be calming, but his eyes keep darting back to the pedestrians passing on the street behind them and putting Felix on edge. 

“It’s not like we can break in.”

Felix frowns, feeling the first few painful pricks in his eyes as they start to water. His heart won’t slow down. “We could call the police.”

“You wanna call the  _ cops _ ?” Felix winces, face twisting up miserably. Jisung’s right, obviously, but he doesn’t know what else they can do. He just feels so pathetic and helpless and it’s so  _ cold _ .

“Just give him some time to wake up, okay? You said he called you really late -”

“But what if he  _ doesn’t  _ wake up?” 

Jisung freezes at the change in his tone, eyebrows appearing under his beanie as they furrow. “Why would you think…?”

The near incomprehensible words in the voicemails he’d woken up to echo in his head. Garbled, slurred speech that had Felix confused and panicked enough until he slowly started to make out the words.

_ “... I love you… I’m sorry…” _

“You don’t understand -”

“Baby... he’s probably just hungover, okay?  _ Please _ , can we just wait in the car? You’re gonna fucking freeze.”

_ “... why did you pick him?… why not me?...” _

And suddenly Felix is crying on the doorstep of Hyunjin’s apartment building.

  
  


〤〤〤

  
  


Hyunjin wakes up with sunlight burning his eyes and the worst noise he’s ever heard in his life drilling into his skull.

Then the smell hits him, stale stomach acid and tequila, and he barely manages a stumbling crawl into his kitchen before he loses the last of his stomach contents all over the tile.

One of his arms is tingling painfully and every muscle and joint in his body is aching in protest. His eyes and nose and throat and just  _ everything _ burns as he collapses mostly to the side of his mess.

At least that fucking horrible noise finally stopped at some point.

Holy fucking  _ shit _ .

He almost falls back asleep with his cheek pressed to cold tile, but then another wave of nausea hits and it’s all Hyunjin can do to drag his body to the sink and shovel water directly from the faucet into his mouth with dirty hands before collapsing again.

A cabinet is digging into his shoulder blade, but he’s just so fucking tired and it’s too bright and the sound of water hitting stainless steel is so fucking  _ loud  _ he could  _ scream _ .

He doesn’t fucking know what happened -

Jesus fucking Christ, what is that goddamn  _ noise? _

Hyunjin holds his wet hands over his ears and tries to breathe, but the awful sound from earlier is back, just a little less ungodly loud than before. He forces himself back to his feet, leaning onto the counter for support as the room spins and blinking through the bleariness in his eyes and -

Oh, fuck, it’s his  _ phone _ .

The little device stops rattling on his coffee table by the time he can get his brain to work and process through the fact that someone’s calling him.

Hyunjin groans, turning slowly so he can lean his elbows on his countertop, wincing as vomit-crusted hair covers his face. 

Humans have been getting hungover since alcohol was invented at like… the beginning of it all or something, but Hyunjin swears in this moment that this is the  _ worst  _ hangover anyone across time and space has experienced  _ ever _ , and all he wants is to wallow in self-pity with that fact.

Except it feels like he’s only given milliseconds before his fucking phone is going off again, plastic rattling against glass insistently.

Hyunjin feels frustration welling up in his chest, a righteous anger that someone is interrupting his misery right now; he’s already stumbled past the cooling, rancid puddle on the floor before realizes that he doesn’t even want to talk to anyone right now.

Because he is the most miserable anyone has ever been ever and no one could possibly understand.

But now he’s close enough to see his screen and the bold ‘Felix’ emblazoned across it, and it’s easy to forget about all the thoughts he just had.

  
  


〤〤〤

  
  


“Hyunjin, I don’t care, just let me in so I can help.” Felix’s hands are shaking, and he can’t tell what’s from anxiety or the untimely winter air anymore as he speedwalks back to Hyunjin’s apartment building. His cheeks are still wet and his eyes are still aching, but all he cares about is that Hyunjin picked up.

Hyunjin’s okay.

He’s okay.

He repeats that like a mantra in his head until he can feel himself calming down, until Jisung’s caught back up to him, until he’s let in the building. It’s all he can think about as he half-listens to the increasingly distressed excuses Hyunjin is giving him to keep him from coming up.

And the second Hyunjin opens the door, Felix crashes into his bare chest.

He smells like alcohol and  _ vomit _ , but all Felix cares about is the faint heartbeat echoing against his ear.

“You’re  _ okay _ .”

He can feel Hyunjin tense in his arms, a low groan reverberating in his chest, “please tell me I didn’t call you, and why are you so  _ cold _ ?”

Felix squeezes his eyes closed and shoves down whatever emotion tries to come up with the knowledge that Hyunjin doesn’t remember.

“You did,” Jisung chimes in helpfully from over Felix’s shoulder.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Lix.”

“It’s not a problem,” Felix reassures, squeezing Hyunjin tightly one more time before letting go and promptly ignoring the looks he can feel Jisung give him, gaze burning holes in the back of his head.

“I’m sorry, I’m okay, you just really shouldn’t come in.” Hyunjin both sounds and looks wrecked, and even as he says it, Felix is gently sidestepping around him to get into the apartment, shrugging off his coat as he does.

“Just go shower, okay? Let me handle it.”

“Lix,” Hyunjin huffs, exasperated, but Felix is already surveying the damage in the kitchen - bad, but not impossible. When he glances back, Jisung and Hyunjin are still staring at each other through the open door.

“Hyunjin, go shower, Jisung and I will clean.” 

Jisung gives him a panicked look that Felix ignores, and Hyunjin groans, dragging his palms over his swollen face, “ _ why? _ ”

“Please?”

Hyunjin drops his hands blinking blearily between the two of them for several long seconds before his shoulders slump.

Felix doesn’t wait for Hyunjin’s soft ‘fine’ before he’s digging under his friend’s sink for cleaning supplies and getting to work. He hears Jisung open a window as the shower starts up down the hall.

“You don’t have to help, by the way,” he hums as he settles to his knees on the tile with warm water, heavy-duty cleaner, and a scrubbing brush.

Jisung just huffs, leaning against the wall next to Felix’s side and doing absolutely nothing to hide the disgust written all over his face as he watches his boyfriend clean up another man’s vomit, “so, are you just going to keep pretending that everything’s fine or…?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Felix frowns as he scrubs at Hyunjin’s tile floor, maybe a bit more harshly than necessary.

“Felix.”

He squeezes his eyes shut before risking a glance up to Jisung’s face. He’s not ready for the look he’s being given. The look Jisung so often gives him when Hyunjin comes up, the ‘I’ll never understand you’ look.

“What?”

“You’re acting like this morning didn’t happen? Why aren’t you fucking pissed at him for scaring you like that? Hell, I’m fucking pissed.”

“Why would I be mad at him?”

“Lix - he gave you a fucking panic attack and you won’t even tell him? You’re just - God, Lix, you’re cleaning up his fucking  _ vomit _ .”

Felix frowns back down at the tinted, soapy water and his steadily reddening hands. “I don’t know, Jisung, maybe I’m just relieved my friend is okay.”

“That’s not the fucking  _ point _ ,” Jisung hisses, and Felix startles, looking back up at him with wide eyes.

“Are we fighting right now?”

Jisung lets out an indignant huff, pushing off from the wall and walking a few steps away.

A heavy, uncomfortable weight settles in Felix’s stomach.

“I don’t want to fight. With either of you. I was worried and I’m just glad I was wrong and that… that this is something I can handle, I can  _ fix _ this.”

“Felix, you can not fix him.”

“You don’t even know him.”

“Yeah, and don’t you think that’s weird, Felix? That this is like the second time I’m meeting your  _ best friend _ and the first was a fucking disaster?” Felix feels a flash of hurt on Hyunjin’s behalf. He’d thought he’d done really well that time. “Why do you think that is? We’ve been dating for almost a year. We fucking  _ live  _ together.”

“You just… you don’t understand -”

“You’re right. I don’t. All I know is that this - this  _ thing _ ? It’s not fucking healthy.”

Felix blinks back tears, squeezing his lips together to try to keep them from trembling. “I know…”

“It’s not  _ healthy _ .”

“I  _ know _ , Jisung.”

Jisung stares at him as the seconds tick by, mouth tensed into a thin line, gaze sweeping over Felix’s face. “I don’t understand why you put up with this. Why you fucking  _ coddle  _ him like this.”

“He’s my friend,” Felix whispers, and he knows it’s not the answer Jisung was looking for before it’s even fully left his lips.

“This -” Jisung gestures widely around the apartment. “Is not normal. This isn’t how normal friends act. This is not how a friend should  _ treat _ you -”

“Please,  _ stop _ ,” Felix gasps, tears splashing into the puddle of vomit and soapy water underneath him. Does Jisung think he doesn’t know that? Does he think this is  _ easy  _ for him? For  _ Hyunjin _ ?

“Babe… please, don’t cry.” Jisung’s voice is suddenly small, hesitant, all of his righteous anger instantly disintegrated by Felix’s tears just like always.

Felix risks a shaky glance in his lover’s direction and doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do about the worry he finds there.

“Baby, I love you, and I worry about you.” He takes an unsteady breath. “Hyunjin obviously isn’t okay, and I don’t think you rushing to take care of him the second something happens is helping anyone. It’s not good for him and it’s obviously not good for you.”

“I… I know, but Hyunjin’s just… he’s really important to me.”

“ _ You’re _ important to  _ me _ .” 

Felix squeezes his eyes closed, a count starting in his head.

  
  


〤〤〤

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

Felix visibly startles at his words, blinking at him from where he’s rinsing out a towel in Hyunjin’s sink. It takes a second too long for his usual bright smile to light up the darkness lingering on his face.

Hyunjin tries not to stare at the redness in his eyes.

“Hey! How are you feeling?” Hyunjin shrugs, stepping carelessly through the lingering wetness on his tile floor with sock-clad feet. It’s still way too bright in his apartment, and his body still aches in a way that makes him want to crawl into bed and stay there for the rest of eternity, but…

Felix.

“Are you okay?” He leans his hip against the counter, watching the smaller boy and trying to ignore the insistent urge to just wrap Felix up in his arms and hold him.

“Me?” Felix wrings out the towel with a little frown; his flannel pajamas are darkened in patches where water splashed onto the fabric. “I’m okay.”

“Where’d he go?”

Felix glances at him from the corner of his eye, pressing his lips together tightly. “Something… came up… he had to go, sorry…” 

Hyunjin wraps his arms around himself and doesn’t respond. He just lets the silence and distance between them stretch, lets it hang heavy and awkward in the lemon scented air while Felix frowns down at the towel in his hands, not even pretending to still be rinsing it as the water continues to run.

“Felix? Are you happy?”

Felix turns to him slowly, brows furrowed and eyes wide as he stares up at him, lips pursed together. Water drips steadily to the tile below, pooling around Felix’s feet, but he just clutches the sopping towel tighter in his raw little hands. “I…” He breaks eye contact, drawing in a deep breath as he stares out into Hyunjin’s living room. Water soaks into his socks; he doesn’t seem to notice or care. “Yeah, I… I’m happy.”

Hyunjin’s jaw clenches, but he nods in spite of the thoughts racing through his head.

“Good.”

〤〤〤

  
  


Hyunjin hasn’t been to Felix’s apartment since it became Felix  _ and Jisung’s _ apartment, and he almost can’t recognize it.

It’s still bathed in the same, warm browns and tans that Felix likes, but the cozy decor Felix had been so proud of himself for curating is now cluttered with out of place furniture and artwork that Hyunjin imagines Jisung had just transplanted from his space when he moved in. There’s bold contemporary art pieces in bright colors clashing with the camel-colored walls and the worn, second-hand stained wood coffee table that Felix had loved was replaced with something sleek and shiny and modern with sharp edges that looks so wrong in front of Felix’s fluffy brown couch. The shelves that had been lined with cascading green plants were now crowded with what Hyunjin has to guess is Jisung’s music collection.

It’s like Jisung is an invasive species.

Like Hyunjin is looking at the physical manifestation of Jisung slowly taking over everything that’s good and comfortable and safe about Felix.

It’s even harder being in this space when Felix isn’t even here… alone with  _ him _ .

_ “Jisung, just… I just think that maybe if you two spent some time together…” _

“Do you want a beer, or something? We found this little brewery just out of town that has an  _ awesome  _ lager.”

“... no, thank you.” All Hyunjin can think about is how much Felix hates beer. “I don’t think I’ll be staying very long.” As an afterthought, he adds, “sorry, just a bit busy.”

Jisung laughs, grabbing a beer for himself. For some reason, the sound of him popping the cap off grates at Hyunjin’s nerves far more than it should. “No, I get it, dude.”

Hyunjin worries his lips between his teeth, trying to focus on anything that isn’t how much he hates that out of all the men in the world that Felix could pick, he chose someone like Jisung.

“Can we just…” 

Jisung laughs again, “yeah, my studio’s just down the hall.”

_ “He’s… you know you’re both just… you’re important to me. I just think… maybe you could try to get along? Just try?” _

Hyunjin takes a deep, slow breath and tries to remember his therapist’s advice as Jisung starts towards Felix’s gaming room… his former gaming room.

This is not something that should upset him.

So, he breathes and manages his anger as they walk down the short hallway. This is Jisung’s space now, too, and Felix is happy to have him here and that’s all that matters.

“Oh,” he whispers before he can think better of it, “this is different.”

The first thing that hits him is the fact that Jisung has to flip on the light, and the second is the jarring, dearth of green. Felix loves plants and any space that got any sunshine used to be full of cascading ferns and leaves fluttering with the air conditioning, the goofiest looking succulents that made Felix smile so much, and miniature trees that he’d affectionately refer to as his little forest. 

And his gaming room, with its east-facing windows, used to be covered in life, but now… it looks dark and barren.

“Yeah, I just felt too cluttered, you know?” Hyunjin doesn’t know, but he nods anyway because that seems like something he should do.

It takes a solid few seconds to just get over the shock of how different everything is. The heavy curtains pulled over the windows, the large desk that once held Felix’s monitors looking empty with just a Macbook and a drawing tablet…

And then… the  _ thing _ in the middle of the room.

“And this is Minho,” Jisung introduces cheerfully, taking a long pull from his beer.

Hyunjin stares longer than is probably polite - which is a weird thought to have seeing as Minho isn’t a person, but he’s also having to remind himself that he doesn’t need to say “hi” or introduce himself to an  _ inanimate object. _

Felix wasn’t kidding.

“He’s pretty,” Hyunjin offers awkwardly, only belatedly realizing that he called  _ it _ a  _ he _ .

“Yeah, he really is,” Jisung laughs. He’s beaming at the doll in a way that feels weird to Hyunjin, but he can’t really figure out why. He’s much more interested in Minho, anyway.

“Can I…?” 

“Yeah, go for it,” the younger man chuckles, taking another pull from his beer as he watches Hyunjin hesitantly approach the man -  _ thing _ , Hyunjin, thing - in the center of the room.

Once he gets closer he can see the stand that it’s propped up on more easily which helps satisfy some of his discomfort, but not all of it.

It’s posed like it’s resting its weight on one leg, the other relaxed to the side. It’s shoulders look relaxed in the way that mannequin’s never do, one arm crossed naturally over his -  _ its _ \- stomach and the other hanging down, head turned casually to the side with a little tilt, its face relaxed and impassive...

_ It _ looks like a person, someone just standing casually in Jisung’s studio with them, dressed in something comfy and casual from his own line, considering the organized shelves of portfolios on the wall next to him while they talk.

But it’s not.

Because no matter how realistic the posing is, no matter how unbelievably lifelike his face is -  _ its face is _ …

The doll is so unbearably static.

Minho’s eyes stare unblinkingly at the wall no matter how long Hyunjin watches.

And then it hits Hyunjin that the thing that’s making him so truly unsettled by the result of what has to just be excellent craftsmanship…

He’s waiting for Minho to take a breath.

To shift his weight, turn back to them, roll his shoulders, cross his arms… literally  _ anything _ .

But he’s never going to.

He takes another step forward, furrowing his eyebrows progressively more with each second because how did the artist manage to make his slightly uneven complexion so convincing? Everything from the hint of redness around his cheeks to the slight  _ acne _ on his jaw and neck -

“I know it’s kinda unsettling at first.” Jisung’s voice startles Hyunjin, breaking the tense silence of the room and the older man’s increasingly worried thoughts. “He’s just so real that it’s, like, hard to think of him as anything but a person.”

Hyunjin chuckles awkwardly, leaning back and brushing his hair away from his face, “yeah, I think that’s it…”

“You get used to it.” Jisung shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips, but Hyunjin’s finding it hard to take his eyes off Minho long enough to worry too much about whatever Jisung’s thinking. “Or you don’t, I don’t think Felix likes him,” he laughs.

“Felix told me I should get one, too... I think he likes him.”

“Yeah, but he won’t even come in this room anymore. He calls him it.”

Hyunjin freezes, eyes locked on the pores in Minho’s skin that he just can’t understand how the artist made so  _ realistic _ .

He’s been calling it “he” and “Minho”, too.

“... it is an ‘it’...” He offers hesitantly, biting his lower lip and trying to figure out if the mannequin’s eyelashes could possibly be made out of real hair.

“Sure,” Jisung hums from over his shoulder, “but I know you see it too. It just seems… disrespectful.”

“... to Minho?”

Jisung looks startled, a small laugh huffing out of him, “no, to  _ Chan _ , the artist.”

Hyunjin steps back when Jisung steps forward, not liking how off balance he feels in this situation and not wanting Jisung any closer to him than necessary. 

The younger man’s finger’s twist in the fabric at Minho’s sleeve, yanking it up carelessly to expose his skin. Hyunjin’s eyes flash up to Minho’s face on instinct and he wants to kick himself because of  _ course _ Minho isn’t going to react to that, he isn’t  _ alive _ .

“Like, seriously, look at this, dude.” Jisung beams, brushing his hand over Minho’s arm. Hyunjin frowns and forces himself to take a few steps closer, trying to figure out what Jisung’s trying to show -

Oh.

There’s fucking  _ hair  _ on his forearms.

“Why would he…?” Hyunjin’s mostly talking to himself as he edges even closer, hesitantly reaching out and feeling a strange pit drop in his stomach as his fingertips brush over downy-soft body hair.

“Realism, baby,” Jisung laughs, “the level of detail Chan put into him is totally insane.”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin whispers, blinking unsteadily as Jisung reaches forward to demonstrate how Minho’s joints work, curling his fingers a bit and straightening his arm, chatting about  _ anatomy _ and  _ skin elasticity _ while Hyunjin’s mind slowly starts to go blank.

Insane is a good word to describe what he’s looking at.

  
  



End file.
